Transformed - a small preview

I decided to give you guys a small preview.
The general set up: Victoria is a tradwife, home-schooling her two daughters (Elizabeth and Matilda) and their friends Juliet and Cindy.
She is sometimes helped by Sister Miranda, a lay nun.
In the background we also have Cindy's as-yet-unnamed mother, who used to be "unbiblical" but then got religion big time.

Beth has acquired a prism (as per my previous stories) and is getting a taste of the wild side. She is also trying ro corrupt her sister and her friends.

The bit I am sharing is not naughty or sexy (well, it is a little, but in a very subdued way), and marks the moment in which Victoria's pupils start giving her problems.
From her down it will be a rollercoaster.

And in case you wondered, all the arguments Victoria uses are taken bodily from the propaganda texts of these "godly women" or "tradwives".

Enjoy!


“There are studies,” Victoria said, “that show that men think women are more sexually available who have tattoos. As a consequence, no godly woman would want to give that impression.”
She squinted. “Yes, Cindy?”
The brunette lowered her hand. “You mentioned studies,” she said. “What sort of studies are these?”
Victoria cleared her voice. “Some papers have been published,” she said. She browsed her notes. “There was an article in Psychology Today, according to which men see tattooed women as less attractive, but they also see them as more promiscuous.”
Cindy frowned. “But—”
“What?”
“Isn’t that one of those science journals that deny the word of our Lord?”
Victoria was silent for a long moment. “No matter what the source,” she said, “we want to live our lives above reproach. Many regret having tattoos later in their lives and I am sure they get uglier with age.”
Cindy looked unconvinced.
“And more important than science journals and research,” Victoria went on, “is the law of our Lord. In the Leviticus it is said, Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the Lord.”
Elizabeth raised a hand in turn. “Yes?” Victoria asked, tiredly.
“But isn’t the Law in the Old Testament superseded by the coming of Christ? It says so in the Romans, For Christ is the end—”
“I know what the Letters to the Romans say,” Victoria snapped. “But we can know the heart of God by what is in the Law and we can see that His heart is for us to not cut our flesh or put any marks upon us. For God hath not called us unto uncleanness, but unto holiness, as it is said in the Thessalonians.”
“But what’s wrong, really, with a tattoo?” Matilda asked. “I mean, it’s not like one gets the Mark of the Beast or some unholy symbol. A few days back I saw a girl—” she shrugged, “on the street, that had a heart tattooed, and—”
Victoria sighed and shook her head.
“It is not the subject or the design,” she said. “It’s the fact that a woman with a tattoo automatically signals other things to her would-be husband. It matters to your future husband what you did before you met him. And you should not expect he will just take you with all that baggage because you are special. You created most of it yourself. The previous two or three generations of men were conditioned by their baby boomer parents to believe that it doesn't matter. But it does.”
“You belong to that generation,” Cindy asked.
Victoria was at a loss for a moment. “What?”
“You belong to one of those entitled generations—”
“What does this mean?” Victoria asked.
She was starting to get a furious headache.
“Did you ever feel like getting a tattoo?” Elizabeth asked.
“No!”
“Why?”
Victoria shook her head. “Because—because I did not. I was not some tattooed skank! That was not my life plan!”
“You had a life plan?” Matilda asked.
“Well, I sure had preferences for the man I was hoping to marry one day. I wanted him to be a godly man, a virgin, hard-working, athletic, and taller than me, for instance.“ Victoria chuckled. “And if you expect high standards from your future husband, you must set high standards for yourself, too; for we are promised that we will reap what we sow. I asked my husband—Elizabeth and Matilda’s dad— if he would have wanted to marry me if I had slept around, had high amounts of debt, and tattoos and he said, Absolutely not!”
The girls were staring at her. She stopped, and checked her watch. “I think we can stop here, for today?”
“Are you not feeling well?” Elizabeth asked.
“I have developed a headache.”
The girls stood and walked out in the back lawn.
Victoria was almost certain she heard Matilda whisper “She should try smoking a cigarette.”
But when she looked, her daughter was smiling sweetly at her.
She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice.
The work and the heat were getting to her.